


Eye of the Beholder

by Tooth



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Big drunk skeleton being very drunk, Drunken Shenanigans, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Peepers taking care of a big drunk skeleton, Peepers's deep emotional struggle, Sleepy Cuddles, plot without porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7439728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tooth/pseuds/Tooth





	Eye of the Beholder

Commander Peepers paced around the conference room impatiently, cursing under his breath and periodically glancing at the clock above the entrance door. It was 29:54, only two hours and ten minutes till midnight. Well, midnight on the home planet of the Eyewalkers, since there wasn’t really a day or night here in the vast desolation of space. It was important for any space travellers to keep up with their home time, if only to keep a healthy sleeping schedule. It took Peepers a lot of effort and a few small lies to convince their leader to go by their clock instead of the one he came up with, which was full of uneven numbers and just generally made no sense. The commander still had to lie about what time it was every now and then, just to convince his superior to go to sleep or get out of bed.  
Peepers stopped his pacing, leaning onto the round conference table and sighing. In many ways he was more of a nanny than a right hand man for Lord Hater. He kept his superior fed, clean and healthy, as well as talking him out (or at least doing his best to) of any imbecile and useless plans the skeleton might come up with. He was usually the one doing all the work, so why even care about Lord Hater? Peepers was smart, he was more than a brilliant tactician, he commanded the Watchdog army with just as much respect and loyalty given to his person as their current leader. Truly it seemed like on his own, commander Peepers would be much more able to achieve galactic domination. Sometimes even he himself wasn’t sure why not get rid of Hater and just do everything on his own, without having to take care of an overgrown skeleton child with a bad temper.

Lord Hater did have certain qualities Peepers didn’t. He had strong powers of his green electric magic, yet he used it so rarely and usually very ineffectively. Peepers tried many times to convince him to train these skills, but it was too much effort to be expected from Hater, he’d much rather just stay in his room and play videogames. Even without his powers however, Hater had imposing posture, something Peepers would not be able to recreate no matter how much he tried. His voice was too high, his height too low, no matter how tall of a helmet he wore. Lord Hater didn’t have to try, he was tall, his chest and shoulders broad and his voice deep and imposing, without even a little bit of effort.

Still, powers could have been replaced with weaponry. Peepers could afford all the weapons and munition he’d ever want if they didn’t have to spend money on Haters useless demands, like a personal endless dorito dispenser or “the most brutal galactic mini golf course ever”. As with image, if a sandwich could hold a place among the biggest evildoers of the galaxy, why not Peepers? He could even use the low expectations of his enemies to his tactical advantage.

Then was it fear what held Peepers from taking things in his own hands? It was true that Hater was much stronger than him, or any other Watchdog for that matter, and he wasn’t afraid to slap, punch or zap any of his subjects. Or, at least he used to be. As time passed, physical attacks got much less frequent, and Hater appeared much more, well, friendly. Nobody doubted however that he wouldn’t hesitate to punish anybody that got into his way, or even just annoyed him. And in case of a revolt, Peepers was sure Hater would go to war with all of them without a second thought. If he would be successful in subduing them however, he wasn’t so sure. Hater was strong enough, but Peepers was a much more capable chieftain, and with proper weaponry and the Watchdog army under his command… he would just might be able to overthrow the electric skeleton man, if he so wished.

But there was one major thing that prevented him from doing so. Commander Peepers didn’t _want_ to overthrow Lord Hater. Even if the idea sometimes surfaced in the back of his eye, he never truly felt like going through with it, or even expand on it in thought. Watchdogs were by nature very loyal creatures that did what they were told without much questioning, but that wasn’t the only reason Peepers remained by Haters side. Lord Hater was more to Peepers than a superior leader. He didn’t like to think about it that way because of their whole evil bad guy style, but the truth was they were buddies. Their friendship wasn’t exactly a secret, yet nobody was supposed to really talk about it. Being colleagues was fine, being buddies was, well, too good guy-ish. Something a filthy flea ridden wretch like Wander would call it. Still, no matter what they called it, they did like each other, they looked out for eachother, they _cared_ about each other.

Peepers sighed again, rubbing his eye. It was 30:12 now, and Hater was still nowhere to be found. Peepers now regretted letting him take on the responsibility of buying new munition all by himself, what was he thinking? If there was one thing that Hater was the absolute least, it was responsible. Peepers learned this lesson many times before, yet every time Hater wanted to go out, do things on his own, buy an eight meter tall pure gold statue of himself, the commander would oblige. And every time, he would regret doing so.

Hater has been gone for a long time now. Peepers called the ammo dealer a little while back to check if Hater is still there, maybe unable to choose the right kind, but apparently he never even arrived there. Did he get lost? Or did he just not feel like doing what Peepers told him to do so he just went wherever? Peepers was exceedingly angry, but also worried. He made a mental note to forget about privacy and just have a Watchdog or two monitoring the skeleton at all times, who cares! He grumbled and began pacing around the room again, thinking about where he could be.

The clock hit 31:50. Peepers was tired, but determined to stay up until they knew what happened to Hater. He peeked his eye out of the door and angrily ordered one of the night guards to go get him an espresso, pronto! From his shouty voice intonation and slightly blood shot eye the guard knew he better hurry, dropping his weapon and running off. Peepers gave the other guard an angry stern look and he immediately straightened his back, saluting. The commander scoffed and went back into the conference room, turning to stare at the clock, stomping his foot impatiently. For a while he watched the clock tick away, forty seconds a minute, his iris following each tick of the second hand. Just a minute before midnight the night guard brought him his coffee and Peepers took a sip before a piece of paper in the watchdogs hand caught his attention. The watchdog handed the commander the note, getting a questioning look.  
“What is this?” Peepers asked in an annoyed manner. The guard shrugged.

“Well, uh, Wander showed up and-” Peepers spit out his coffee.  
“He did? Where?!”

“Oh, he left already, he just wanted me to give you the note so I-” He stopped when meeting the commander's furious look. Peepers squeezed the cup in his hand, getting ready to yell, but then just sighed, rubbing his eyeball in anger. The guard stood there unsurely until Peepers waved his hand at him, sending him off. When he left the room, Peepers sat down in one of the conference chair for a moment, calming down his temper. He had severe migraines whenever his blood pressure caused a few blood vessels to rupture in his retina, and he didn’t need more aggravation right now. _One catastrophe at a time Peepers,_ he thought to himself, _one catastrophe at a time._ He looked at the crumbled and now also coffee stained piece of paper in his hand, then unfolded it.

He groaned with annoyance at the sight of the badly drawn doodle which he could barely tell what it was. He could at least somehow read the writing however, and once he did he could feel his blood pressure shooting through the roof.

A short message was addressed to him in a very cheery and sickeningly friendly manner. Wander and his scabby dinosaur horse apparently saw their leader on one of the planetoids in the Nostrum stellar system. Included was a wish of a nice day and a doodle of him and Hater holding hands.

Peepers ripped the note apart, screaming with anger. He hopped off the conference chair, slipped in the puddle of coffee and fell to the ground, cursing and blaming the watchdog who brought him the beverage. He stormed out of the room and began yelling on the still present guards to immediately wake up the engineers and the ship driving staff. In a matter of minutes he was yelling commands left and right, terrorizing his subjects with threats of punishment and degradations.  
The Nostrum stellar system wasn’t too far away, at least in cosmic measures. Peepers ordered the scout team to immediately comb the area, but they didn’t have to search for long. Lord Hater was found on a tiny barren planetoid, surrounded by empty Thunder Blazz bottles and dim glow sticks. Peepers immediately knew who was the culprit in this particular mystery and he could feel his vitreous body boil with anger, both at the buff shark jerk and Lord Hater himself. He ordered to land and stormed out of the cockpit, walking into the hangar with heavy furious steps. Stomping down the ship tongue he huffed and growled with anger, his eye fixated on the wasted skeleton.

“SIR!” he yelled once he set foot on the surface of the planetoid. Lord Hater lifted his head up fast, trying to blink the haze off of his eyes without much luck. Once he finally recognized Peepers, he began flailing his arms and legs in a futile attempt to get on his feet.  
“PEEPRRsiwasssuhhhhhHHhhHHH-YEAtheeHHHUh…” he slurred out, making unrecognisable grimaces as he did. Peepers stomped his way to him and leaned his eye above his face, frowning furiously.

“This doesn’t seem like the ammunition market, now does it?!” he yelled. “HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!” he flailed his tiny arms with anger, then set them at his sides. Hater managed to sit up.

“Ieeh can exsspl-ain,” he said, putting a hand over Peepers’s helmet in a calming gesture. It was not a very effective attempt. Hater waited a bit, trying to collect his scarce thoughts.

“Weeell, I wush- like-” he gesticulated wildly, “nn I stood in the- the- the- LLL-LLINE- yea? Aaanduuhhh- d’ SHERK JRRRRK-” He took a moment to breathe in through his teeth in anger, then his eyes briefly darted to Peepers to see if he’s getting any less angry. He wasn’t. “AND I WAS REELY, LIKE, UUUUUUUHHHHHHH, DNT- KKK-CUT MAE OFF! AN’ I- PCHEWW, PCHEWWWW,” he pointed his fingers, demonstrating how he attacked Emperor Awesome with his powers. He looked to Peepers closely, his hand landing back on his helmet, pulling it over his iris unintentionally.

“I WUS JUST, UHH, TRYIN TO- LIKEUUUHhhhhsshhhhOP-- the THINGS! n’ HE was like- GUHH, awsssSS- BEHHTR! THAN YUUU!” he imitated the knucklehead overlord with anger and abhorrence. “So Iiuhh sed- NO!!!! yu r NOT!” Peepers shoved his hand off, setting his helmet back upright.

“So you got into a fight with him? THEN HOW DID YOU END UP HERE AND DRUNK?!” he yelled. Hater covered his head in fear.

“AAAIIIH DINN’T WANNUH- HE SEID I C’NTUUUUHH- DRENK AOLL DHE DR-NK! LIKE HEEUH!” Peepers grabbed his superior by one of his lightning bolts. If they were ears, horns or even hair, he didn’t know, but they served as convenient handlers. He pulled Haters head up to face him face to eye.

“You…” he began, trying his best to conceal his anger to at least get his point across, “you let Emperor Awesome challenge you to a drinking contest… and you accepted… and let him intoxicate you… so that he could drop you off somewhere in space and leave you to possibly get killed…” Even while his mind was preoccupied with trying to wrap his eye around the imbecility of his leader, he was kind of proud of himself for holding his yelling off so well. Hater didn’t answer, just staring at the commander with unfocused eyes. Peepers closed his eye, rubbing his eyelid with his free hand, exhaling deeply. The anger inside him suddenly turned and he didn’t feel like yelling anymore, but he wasn’t sure what that meant. Hater finally lifted a finger up.  
“Heuh todl me to doouh it n I dinn’t wannuh but hue did ssso I d’d too,” he said, as if that was supposed to justify it. Peepers looked at him with a deep frown.

“Sir, if Emperor Awesome jumped out of a ship hangar into outer space, would you jump after him?” Hater sat up with anger.

“nnnNNO!!!” He pointed to himself proudly, “I GO FR’SSSSST!!!” Peepers groaned, putting a hand over his eye. He got a better hold of Hater’s head bolt thing and began dragging him back to the ship.

“Well, I hope the victory was worth it sir! While you were gone we missed two major invasion opportunities!” he growled angrily. He dragged him up the ship tongue, then looked over the watchdogs standing by the entrance, listening in.  
“AND WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?! BACK TO YOUR QUARTERS, NOW!” The group immediately dispersed, hastily getting out of the way of their strict commander. Peepers dragged Hater further down the hangar, closing the hatch, then continued down the corridor. Hater slurred out protest and unintelligible justifications, but Peepers paid him no attention. He dragged him all the way to Hater’s quarters, where he finally let go. Hater hastily tried to get up, succeeding only partially by getting on his knees, hand on the wall. Peepers turned to him and stared at him for a moment, his serious eye giving away very little. He himself wasn’t sure what he felt, he thought like he was supposed to be angry, but he just wasn’t, well, not really. He looked Hater up and down, grabbing his robe and pulling it closer to take a better look. Hater paid him little attention, straining with effort not to fall down on his face.  
“Eugh!” Peepers let go of the cloth, “your clothes are absolutely filthy! And what in grobs name is that smell?” Hater lifted his head to look at him, slowly blinking a few times.

“Whueeeeh?” he let out after a few seconds. Peepers shook his eye.

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to know…” He grabbed his hand, patiently helping him to get on his feet, then leading him further down the hall and into the bathroom.  
Once they entered the room, Hater began trying to back out, but couldn’t find his balance to actually make the steps on his own. He groaned in protest while Peepers closed the door behind them, slurring so badly not a word could be made out. It was apparent however that he didn’t want to wash, sitting down on the ground and folding his arms. Peepers turned the tap, frowning at the sulky skeleton.

“Sir!” He walked to him, grabbing at the filthy clothes. “There’s an invasion planned for tomorrow, you can’t show up all dirty and smelling like a dead goat. Nobody will take you seriously!” Hater didn’t seem so care much, slowly slouching down until he laid splayed on the black ceramic tiles, groaning in protest. Peepers sighed deeply, getting down on his knees to untie the laces on Hater’s sneakers. Hater began kicking back, groaning louder. Peepers had a hard time holding him down, eventually resorting to hold his foot still by sitting on his shin. After a bit of fighting he managed to pull them off and throw them aside, soon followed by his socks and gloves. He then grabbed at the lower hem of the cloak and, walking around his leader with fast short steps, pulled the clothes off over his head. His underwear was missing (maybe stolen by Awesome to be thrown into a volcano or displayed somewhere in his limo as a trophy, the commander didn’t care) so Lord Hater now laid naked on the bathroom floor. Peepers faintly remembered a time where seeing his leader like this made him uneasy, but since then there has been many situations like this. He was just a pile of bones anyway, nothing much to see.  
With extreme effort Peepers managed to push the uncooperative skeleton to the tub, then roll him up the wall until he fell over the edge into the water. He covered his eye before the splash, his clothes getting soaked, but he didn’t mind much. He set a high stool next to the tub and climbed up on it, looking down at Hater with a stern eye. Hater was giving him a reproachful look, his jaw submerged, making bubbles as he chided silently. Peepers rolled his eye, reaching out for the long handle of the shower brush. He began scrubbing, an act which also used to feel weird but didn’t anymore, paying attention to Hater’s hands so that he wouldn’t try to grab and pry the brush from him. The skeleton sat motionless, only growling, giving Peepers a pouty look.

“Oh, don’t look at _me_ like that sir. I’m not the one who got drunk thoughtless from munition money,” Peepers squinted his eye with reproach. Hater groaned.  
“Ieh did et four hDE LEEdys,” he sat upright, splashing the water around. Peepers raised his eyelid, sarcastically.

“Oh really? What ladies?” he asked, although he didn’t care much for the answer. Whatever would keep Hater preoccupied was good right now. The skeleton puffed up his chest, smiling a wide goofy smile.

“Veeeery prettey, preeetty laedys, hheeeeeee-” He coughed when he accidentally swallowed some of the soap foam on his face. Peepers reached down into the water and splashed it off his chin, then grabbed his arm and pulled it up so he could scrub his boney armpit.

“I presume they were some of Awesome’s groupies,” Peepers said, not hiding his disdain. Hater pulled his arm down and the commander almost fell in the tub, hardly keeping his balance by flailing his arms wildly.  
“STUPIDH AWESSSsssh- he wunteded- heuh wasllike- HEY! youurntenthhdeCOOL- gggeyhwthDHELADIIIS!! Iiieh sayed- NO!!! Iiiam djSSTSSSssss-COOL AS YEUH!” He slapped his hands into the water, getting Peepers even more wet than he already was. “I KHAEN DOOoallffhdeTHINGSSSSsss- thAT U. n i drrunk- ALL HDE STUFFFF. FOR HDE LAAADYYYYS.” Peepers set the brush aside, getting the showerhead to wash down all the remaining soap.

“Ah yes, they must’ve been very impressed…” he muttered sarcastically. He turned the water off and set the showerhead aside, then suddenly stopped when he met Hater’s eyes. The look he was giving him was no longer boastful or angry, it was sad, pitiful. Peepers wasn’t sure what to do when Hater sobbed, rubbing his face in one skeletal hand roughly and without focus.  
“No-ho-hooo,” he hiccuped, “theeyh wernn’t imprehse-he-he-d.” He rubbed his wrist over his face in a very drunk way. “Teeehey LAUThd at me-he-he… teyh, teyh maydmmme wahklallfffFUNHEy nthnnn saiedlohrdhutherrssSTUPID!” he continued sobbing.  
Peepers now felt bad for being sarcastic. Sure, it was Hater’s fault for getting into such a stupid bet, to impress some brainless girls no less. But Peepers knew it was hard not to get egged on by Emperor Awesome, especially for Hater who believed he was the greatest in the galaxy. Come to think about it, it was kind of Peepers’s fault for letting this happen, for leaving Hater completely unsupervised. He felt a bit responsible for his leader getting publicly humiliated, even if it really wouldn’t have been so hard to just turn away from a dare like this and avoid the ridicule.  
“Oh sir,” Peepers said in consolation, patting his skull, “it’s okay, they’ll soon forget about it.” He reached down for the plug, setting it aside on the edge of the tub. He jumped off the stool and hurriedly grabbed a few towels, setting them down beside the bathtub.  
“They’ll find somebody else to pick on, they have nothing better to do!” he waved his arms, “Emperor Awesome can act as tough and _cool_ as he wants to, but he’s still a complete failure!” He looked to Hater in anticipation, but he didn’t seem too encouraged, his head down. Peepers felt an inexplicable wave of anxiety coming through his tiny body, seeing his leader down like this, but he quickly shook it off, getting back onto his stool. He climbed into the now dry tub beside Hater and with great strain and effort managed to push him out in the span of a few minutes. His boney body rattled as it hit the towels and Peepers had to take a moment to catch his breath. He then climbed out, grabbed more towels and threw them over Hater, who now reached out his arms in confusion since he couldn’t see with one of the towels over his face. Peepers took off the wet clothes, folding it aside to be taken care of later, and reached into one of the lower cabinets for a spare set he kept there for exactly these situations. Being dry made him feel a little better. He returned to the confused skeleton and began drying his superior, trying to think of something to cheer him up with as he did.  
“You know I bet those girls only like Awesome now that he’s powerful and, eugh, ‘cool’,” he said, rubbing his ribs decisively, “but all of that is just tempo-” He stopped when Hater began crying again, his iris contracting with panic. Hater slowly sat up in the pile, supporting himself on his arms shakily, the towels falling off of him. Once he managed to sit upright he leaned forward, hanging his head down.

“H-HE ISssSO-MUCH CO-OL-ER THAN ME-HE-HE!” he cried. Peepers rubbed his hands anxiously.  
“But sir, that’s not true,” he tried to assure him, patting him on the back. “There there, it all seems bleak now, I know. But tomorrow it’ll all be better, I promise.” Hater’s sobs got a bit more silent, but he still didn’t seem much happier. Peepers sighed, feeling a strange weight on his chest. Was this… helplessness? He didn’t like to think about it. He grabbed Hater by the arm and began helping him up on his feet.  
“Come on sir,” he huffed with strain, “we’ll get you in bed, you’ll have a good night sleep…” Once Hater finally got to stand up Peepers quickly threw his night robe over him, running around his slightly wobbly posture to tie the belt around his waist. He grabbed his hand and gently tugged at it, getting Hater to follow him. Slowly and carefully he led the barely standing dark overlord out of the door and through the hall, until they reached the door to his room.

Peepers opened the door and gestured to the room with a mouthless smile.

“Here we are, we made it sir!” he said cheerily. Hater blinked slowly, trying to see his surrounding clearly but with no luck. Peepers turned to Hater to compliment him on not falling once on the way here, but his words were cut short as Hater stumbled and fell right on top of him. The commander’s eye went wide and he quickly outreached his hands to cushion the fall, the impact punching the breath out of his tiny lungs. He groaned with effort as he lifted Hater back up as much as he could, until, to his relief, the skeleton managed to grab a hold of the doorframe and pull himself back up. Peepers took a deep breath, then a long exhale, glad he doesn’t have to roll Hater up into the bed. He grabbed Haters hand again and carefully led him through the room until finally he got him to sit down on the sheets.

Peepers sat down on the ground for a moment, catching his breath. Hater wasn’t as heavy as one would think, he was a skeleton after all, but Peepers, even with all his exercise, was still very small compared to his leader. Finally he got back up and jumped onto the bed, kicking away a few empty bags of chips. He uncovered the sheets and spent a while arranging the pillows before he finally felt content with the looks of it. He pushed Hater down on the bed, then helped him move his legs up on it and finally covered him with the sheet. Hater remained motionless and apathetic throughout the whole ordeal, up until Peepers sat next to him with a long sigh, rubbing his sore shoulders. They still hurt from catching the skeleton as he fell in the doorway.

As he sat there, the terrible anxiety inducing sound of Hater sobbing echoed into the silent room again. Peepers stopped, his eye opening wide, his chest tightening again, like a straightjacket. He turned to Hater with a pitiful look while the skeleton turned his back to him, his chest shaking.  
“Nobuhdy likehs me-he-he…” he whimpered, sniffing, “errrybudy thinkhsaiim- stuphidnlame.” Hater continued to lament, his words getting less and less distinguishable, yet somehow Peepers understood him perfectly. He talked about feeling alone and insignificant, undesirable, unlovable. The slurred words that in some twisted sense only he could distinguish felt like needles getting stabbed into his lungs. He couldn’t explain _why_ he felt like this, and the uncertainty made it feel even worse. He grabbed at his chest, breath shallow, his contracted iris staring at the dim lit silhouette of his leader laying beside him.

No. Peepers closed his eye, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t let this get the better of him, not now that his lord needed him. He breathed in, then shook as he exhaled, feeling the vitreous liquid in his eye shake with him. Then it was gone.

“Sir,” Peepers said softly, “you mustn't let some filthy jerk get under your skin like this.” He put a hand on Hater’s shoulder. “And I know things don’t always seem well, but no matter what, you’re still the greatest. I promise tomorrow will be better.” He rubbed his upper arm gently. “Until then, I am here for you.”

There was a moment of silence. Hater stopped sobbing, and shaking, and moving all together. Then, slowly, he got up on his hands and turned around. Peepers pulled his hand back, the tight feeling coming back. The silence prevailed, deafening, suffocating. In that moment he felt like his eye was going to explode from the tension.  
Was that… too much? Did he overstep some boundary? Suddenly he felt so stupid, so unbearably soppy and weak. When Hater turned his head to him he shifted his eye away, blinking the sweat off of his sclera. It took him all the effort and courage there was in his tiny body to look his superior in the eyes again.

Relief washed over him like warm water and he just now realized how tightly he held his fists. Hater looked at him with teary eyes, then sniffed, rubbing his face clumsily.

“Youuu… meahn- it?” It was apparent from his voice he tried his best to talk distinguishably. Peepers released the tension in his chest, allowing himself to breathe again.  
“But of course sir!” he exclaimed, successfully covering up his previous anxiety, “there’s nobody as great as you are.” A new, unknown feeling filled him up when Hater smiled. It wasn’t unpleasant this time, but just as before, Peepers couldn’t categorize it, which made him uneasy. He stood up, pushing at the skeleton gently to get him to lay down.

“Now sleep, sir, it’s very late. Galactic domination requires a restful night, yes?” he smiled. He jumped off of the bed, almost running away, not wanting to encounter any of these alien feelings anymore.

But he didn’t get far until his arm was suddenly caught in the skeletal grip. He almost fell to the ground in shock.

“NOGHDONTGO!” Hater almost shouted, dragging him back. Peepers turned to face him, uncertainty and fear apparent in his eye. Hater sat him back on the bed beside him, still holding his arm.

“Phleassstaywhithme…” Hater mumbled pittifully, dragging him even closer. Peepers didn’t know what to do, what to even think. He felt trapped, a hostage of his own feelings he didn’t understand. He didn’t _want_ to understand.  
“But sir!” he tried to reason with the skeleton as a last resort, “I also need to sleep so I-”

“Youh can shleep hhheere…” That closed up pretty much all the escape routes. Peepers knew there was no point arguing with Hater, whether he was sober or drunk, it made no difference. He stared at his superior, his iris darting between Haters eyes in silence. For a moment, Peepers hoped that if he didn’t answer, Hater would change his mind. But he didn’t, still holding his arm just as tightly, staring at him with unfocused begging eyes. After a while of silence, Peepers sighed, giving in and coming closer as the grip led him. Hater smiled a tiny overly happy smile while Peepers took his helmet off, setting it on the bedside table. He put his shoes under it, then took off his gloves, setting them on his helmet. He figured he could not take of his uniform with Hater holding his arm, but he wouldn’t want to anyway. He wiped the sheets a bit, just to be sure there’s no crumbs, before laying down on his back next to the skeleton.

“Yes, well, I suppose if it makes you feel better sir, I can stay the night,” he said. Hater nodded contentedly, setting his head down on the pillow and closing his eyes, his fingers still wrapped around the commander's forearm. Silence fell once again, only interrupted by the silent breathing that eventually turned into snores.

Peepers did not sleep however. He lay there on his back, eye staring up into the ceiling, motionless. Haters hand made him feel in a way, not uncomfortable nor pleasant, as he silently pondered. Even in the relative darkness he was able to look around while thinking, since the eyewalkers had, unsurprisingly, exceptional sight. They could see long distances, notice tiny details easily, and their iris would expand to great sizes in the darkness to allow more light in. He tried to make mental notes of what to clean up in the room in an attempt to push out the thoughts of what he felt, but he could not. He was trapped here, unable to move, unable to run away, not this time. He sighed, silently, even thought it would have taken an atom bomb to wake the skeleton in this state.

What was it that he felt for Lord Hater? It made him feel so awful and weak, but it was not hate or fear, he was past those. He used to hate Hater so much, for him he was nothing but a nuisance, an annoying side product of his achieved dreams. Thanks to him he was finally on the top, recognized, reputable, a commander with a capital C. He used to be a reject, an outcast from society, for he was not like the other eyewalkers. He was far smarter than others, ambitious and unique. But those were not considered qualities among his kind, a species that thrived in abundance, cooperation, similitude. But with Lord Hater, he was finally able to find his spot. His uniqueness was no longer a curse to him, but an advantage admired by many. But there was a cost, and that was the duty of taking care of a short tempered, powerful yet incompetent and childish electric skeleton man. Oh, he used to hate Hater so so much, back when he was terrified of getting killed, or worse, fired from his position, by this wannabe dark overlord.

But that was a long time ago. When Peepers got to understand Hater better, learn how to talk to him and how to treat him, things got much better. He was still afraid in his presence, like being with a wild unpredictable animal, but seeing how much they had in common he came to realize that befriending Hater was not such an unimaginable thing anymore. And once he did, he found out he doesn’t have to be so afraid of him. Hater was just as vulnerable and longing for a place to fit in as Peepers was. And when they couldn’t find that place, they settled for making it themselves.

Peepers took a deep breath, turning his eye to the side to look at Hater. He slept peacefully, jaws slightly ajar, snoring silently into the night. For being so drunk he really didn’t seem like he was sleeping too deep. Peepers looked lower, seeing the skeletal hand around his arm still present. In his thought he didn’t even feel it anymore, but now that his attention was brought back to it, his eye filled with more thoughts. He exhaled deeply, putting his free hand on his chest and tapping his fingers absentmindedly.

He could deny to others, but not to himself, how much he cared about Hater’s well being. It used to be just a chore, a job, to assure he’s okay enough to conquer planets and defeat his rivals. But as they became friends, Peepers found himself genuinely worried and caring for his superior, even beyond his responsibilities. He didn’t like to think about it that way however, for the same reasons they never out loud called eachother friend. It was too sappy, to sentimental for the soontobe greatest overlords of the-

His train of thought was interrupted when the pressure around his forearm increased. Peepers turned his eye to Hater, who grumbled something illegible out of his sleep, then let go of him. Peepers watched in silence as the hand reached around, patting him on the chest a few times, then reaching higher and unintentionally slapping him right on the eye. Peepers growled in discomfort, covering himself and pushing the hand away. Then Hater’s hand found his shoulder, the one further from him, and his fingers wrapped around it before Peepers could pull away. His eye went wide when Hater pushed his tiny body closer to his and suddenly, Peepers was being held to hich chest like a stuffed toy. Slightly shaken, he stared into the darkness, his eye darting to Hater’s face a few times in panic. His superior hummed comfortably, then snored loudly a few times before coming back to being somewhat silent.

Peepers was petrified. He could feel his heart beating loud and fast, the pulse going through his whole body, all around his retina, the vitreous humor, his lens and cornea. His eye was going bloodshot against his own will, and there was nothing he could do. He lay motionless, stuck in the skeletal embrace, his eye clear of thought in shock. This went on for several long minutes.

Finally, Peepers came back to his senses. His eye darted to look Hater in the face, hoping to find out the skeleton was maybe playing some weird sort of prank on him. But Hater was sound asleep, maybe even more peacefully than before. Peepers looked back to the ceiling, sweat forming over his eyelid and sclera, as he let out a silent helpless whimper.

This was… happening now, apparently. Peepers had been hugged a few times before, but not quite like this. Before it was usually out of the spur of the moment, like after blowing up a moon, it was a quick fleeting hold usually followed by being thrown to the ground like a touchdown ball. Now, it was longing, close and intimate, even if probably not intentional. But that was not the worst of it, surprisingly. It wasn’t the act itself that made Peepers cover his eye in despair, it was the commander's response to it. The blood flowed into his eyelid, giving it a reddish tint, and his hands shook.

 _Oh, this is so embarrassing,_ he thought. He could no longer control himself and that scared him, but more so, he felt so _stupid_ . He should’ve just suppressed the intense feeling in his chest, ignore it, make it go away with his great willpower. Why was he acting like this? Why did he _feel_ like this?

Was this… physical attraction, perhaps?

Peepers uncovered his eye just a bit, side glancing Haters face. In the state he was it didn’t feel weird to wonder about such things anymore, at least when approached purely logically. He took in the dim lit features of the skeleton closely, with the same thoughtful observation as if he was conducting a science experiment. He carefully watched his heart rate, perspiration, the fuzzy feeling eyewalkers would experience pulsing around their optic disks. It was… somewhat there, but not really more than what could be expected with so much stress at the moment. Truth was, his kind did not need as much physical contact as other species, only rarely would they get lonely and frustrated, which only made them better fit for being space marines. That did not mean they weren’t capable of finding others desirable, just that even if they did, they had no problem absenting from certain actions. Peepers himself never felt attraction in his life, and he was sort of proud of it in a way. No infatuation meant he always thought with a clear eye, not having to worry about anything but his job. Now, however, Peepers regretted never even trying. Now, he could not tell what it was that he felt. Now, he was uncertain, even scared, and Haters hold getting tighter did not help.

Something in him laughed, that part of him that was full of self doubt and hatred for every little mistake he made. He was usually able to suppress it, he was smart and strong willed, he would not let himself succumb to his old self destructive tendencies, not again. But now, with all his thoughts clouded with anxiousness and embarrassment, it was the strongest voice in his head. It yelled at him for being stupid and vain in his evilness, unable to accept he was not made of stone. It took him by the shoulders and forcefully dipped his cornea in all that he tried so badly to ignore. The blushing, the itching, the urge to outreach his arm and hug Hater back. He shook with anger towards himself when forced to admit how much he really wanted that. Yes, these feelings were so similar to what he felt the first time Hater complimented him on the job. And just like he hated to admit with just how much happiness and **love** he held those scarce moments in his **heart** , he could not bare to think that being so close to Hater, to be held, to be **loved** and **cared about** ,

made him **feel**

**_so_ **

**_n̗͒̈̃̉͛̿̎í͖̲͍ͥ͊̈̐c̸̥̲͔̩͚̙̋ͭ̐̅ͤe̹̹͎̞̻͋̇_ **.

  
Peepers covered his eye, his body shaky with emotion. He felt so angry with himself, so helpless, scared and all at the same time so overwhelmingly happy. His eye was watering up, with sweat, tears or a mixture of both, Peepers couldn’t even tell. He tried to get a hold of himself, but he could not, straining just to stay silent. After a while he finally felt himself calming down, breathing getting slower, until Peepers could think coherently again. He took a deep breath, then exhaled, closing his eye for a moment. Then, he looked to Hater, still sleeping like a baby, and frowned. Suddenly all this rage and misery changed into resolve. He deserved this. He worked hard and hardly ever complained about the often awful ways he was treated. Here, this opportunity was laying before him on a silver platter, and Peepers was done renouncing.

He closed his eye tightly, spread his arms wide and clumsily pressed himself against Haters chest, reaching around him as far as he could, holding onto his ribs. He remained frozen in the slightly uncomfortable position, strained and tense, until his body slowly began gradually relaxing. He slumped down slightly, his arms slipped off, and Peepers simply pressed his chest against the sternum, his fingers sticking through the ribs into the rib cage. It felt to Peepers like hours, even if it was hardly a few minutes, until he could breathe freely again. He exhaled a long shaky breath, whimpering silently, then finally everything felt right. His eye was clear of thought, his body calm and motionless, his eye closed and pressed lightly against his collarbones. For a while, Peepers was truly at peace.

Of course, this state of blissful peace didn’t last long for Peepers, whose liquid brain always worked on 110%. His closed eyelids trembled as the thoughts of what will happen after this began surfacing in his eye. Hater would surely fire him if he found out the commander had taken advantage of his intoxication to **cuddle** with him. Not just fire him, he’d probably have him executed in some over the top way, like tying him to a space torpedo or putting him on a small planet and then blowing it up with lasers. Or, even worse, he would send him back to home planet to become a civilian. Peepers’s fingers held his ribs tighter at the thought of having to come back to the life of endless trying to fit in, never succeeding.

 _No, let's calm down now,_ Peepers thought, his breath shaky with panicked anxiousness. _He is not only drunk but asleep. There are no cameras in his rooms. If you simply lie, he will never find out…_

Peepers opened his eye. It was true, Hater would never find out unless Peepers told him. There was, of course, the possibility that Peepers would fall asleep and Hater would wake up earlier, but well, it was miniscule. Hater was as late of a sleeper as one could get. Besides, he’ll have such a hangover that he wouldn’t care, even if Peepers told him something as big as that Wander had been apprehended. Truly, Peepers would get away with this easily, with little to no effort. Hater would never know…

He would never know how Peepers felt about him. How much he cared for him, how much he just wanted to be with him, ruling the galaxy or endlessly trying to, he didn’t care right now. Life would continue as it was before, with Hater being oblivious and thoughtless towards him and Peepers repressing all that he felt. All of the **disgusting mushy filth** that swirled around his eye whenever Hater showed him any sign of kindness of friendship, making him weak, dazed, _lovestruck_ , **_happy_ **. Hater would never know… that Peepers loved him.

The commander felt like crying, but no tears came. He felt sadness and apathy and nothing else for what felt like an eternity, then finally, as if his heart wasn’t beating until now, he could feel his veins filling with a different emotion. It was a strange sort of spunk, an angry resolve, thoughts of somebody who had nothing to lose. He frowned, pushing against Haters ribs and looking up to his face. The skeletal arms around his tiny body held him down slightly, but Peepers was strong enough to fight his way through, shifting on the bed until he was facing his superior.

“I deserve this,” he whispered out loud, “I give you my all, now, for once, it’s your turn, _sir_ .” Hater’s face was calm and motionless as Peepers put his hands on his chin, lifting his head up slightly. For a while he stared him iris to face, taking in the details of his eye sockets, collarbones and teeth. Truly, Hater was not attractive to him, even if he also wasn’t unattractive to him. His feelings derived from a different kind of attraction, one of longing for _appreciation_ , _recognition_ and _gratitude_ . He wished to be **_loved_ ** . He wished to give Hater his all, only asking for _validation_. And if Hater wasn’t going to give it, Peepers would do what any galactic overlord would. He would take it. It was only fair.

Of course, what he planned to do was not nearly as dramatic as what his inner thoughts were making it out to be. The same way Peepers would never blow up a populated planet, he would never dare to come down to any drastic measures, grob no. No, what he had in mind was delicate, sophisticated and, most importantly, circumspect. Something small he could take from Hater without him ever knowing, then carry it with him like one would carry a photo of a loved one in a heart locket around their neck. He gently caressed his jawline in his thumb, his eye calm, hazy even. Only a single kiss, that’s all he wanted. Just a small smooch.

At this point, there arose an obvious problem. Hater had no lips. Peepers didn’t even have a mouth, well, at least not in the traditional way. Of course the eyewalkers had an oral orifice by which they ate and breathed, a common misconception was they used the eye itself, but that wasn’t true. Instead they had a mouth entrance under the lower eyelid, without jaws, simply a tube lined with flat grinding teeth. This meant no tongue or lips, which made this whole ordeal quite difficult. But Peepers was not one to give up on any cause, especially something he longed for so much.

He took a few calming breaths, blinking slowly. His hand slip up his jawline and cupped his cheekbone softly. Then he leaned closer, closing his eye, and holding his breath he pressed his closed eyelids against Haters face.

He held his eye closed tightly, pressing against Hater’s teeth, shaking with strain and stress. Pleasant wouldn’t be the word to describe the situation. Peepers was stiff and tense, and after a moment pulled away, sighing. Oh, how dumb and awkward he must’ve looked just now, pressing their faces together like a piece of bologna to a dry sandwich bun. This was harder than he thought…

He looked up again, studying the features of his leader closely. Truth was, Peepers didn’t even really know how he would go around kissing another watchdog, simply because he never really cared about such things. Well, he did have some idea of how it worked, from movies and literature. Light pressure and friction against one’s lower eyelid felt nice and affectionate, just like a soft kiss or a caress on the cheek would for other creatures. Among the “more intimate manners of out making”, as Peepers delicately put it in his thought, eyewalkers would rub their margins together. They did not posses eyelashes, the edges of their eyelids were smooth and soft, really, they were not unlike lips. Peepers shook his eye and shuddered when deeper thoughts about this matter appeared in his eye. Just like nearly all other species, Peepers found the rubbing or corneas and other intimate customs of his species quite disgusting.

But then, what was he to do? How would he go about this, to take what he wanted, if he didn’t know _how_? He could feel helpless anger rise in his eye, what he wanted was right here, right before him, yet he had no mean of taking it. He groaned silently in frustration, why was it that all he ever wanted and tried for would-

Suddenly he flinched when Hater began shifting. He mumbled out of his sleep and Peepers froze up, eye wide, afraid he’ll wake up and find him out. Right now he was so close to his face, a blush spread over his eyelids and his eye slightly bloodshot, Hater would surely know and get angry with him and-

But Hater simply clicked his tongue and snored a bit, then his hands searched around until he found the commander again. Peepers let out an embarrassing silent meep when the skeletal hand landed on his back, the tips of his fingers hooking over his shoulders the slightest bit. Then he slumped back into deep sleep, while Peepers didn’t dare to move a muscle. It took several minutes before the commander considered it safe to breathe fully again.

For a moment he could not think, the only thought in his eye the feeling of Haters hand pressed against him. His palm was so huge compared to Peepers, covering nearly half of his back, inexplicably warm for literally consisting of only bones. When Peepers got over his shock, he began to realize another change in his feelings. Just like before when he pressed himself against his chest, Peepers felt calm, safe even. He remained unmoving, eye fixated at the boney face, smelling the alcohol from his breath through the sensitive tissue on the inner side of his eyelids. Normally he would be grossed out, but now, nothing seemed bad to him. Nothing in the world. Peepers blinked slowly, his eye getting hazy, and he caressed Hater’s cheekbone softly.

He was thinking about this all wrong. He didn’t need anything for this and there was no wrong way of doing this. For what he wanted was not an item. It was merely an experience, a pleasant moment. A future memory to keep his heart warm in the cold abyss of depression. It didn’t need to be “perfect” or “by the book”, it just needed to be. Peepers slid his hand over the length of Haters jawline. It just needed to be _him_.

This time when he leaned in he didn’t rush anywhere or even really aim anywhere. He presses his closed eye to Haters face, the soft warm lower eyelid rubbing carefully against his big boney chin. Peepers waited a bit, gently rubbing from side to side, then dared to go higher. He flinched when the “lips” of his closed eyes found Haters slightly open mouth. For a moment he hesitated, knowing that once he pushed on there would be no going back. His eye opened up slightly, looking closely over Haters teeth. But Peepers did not back off, closing his eye again, grabbing onto Haters cheekbones to push himself closer.

The feeling of Haters teeth rubbing over the margin of his eye made the commander lose his breath for a moment. His closed eye fluttered and he could feel his heartbeat shaking his whole being from both the tension and intense feeling of happiness. It felt so strange, not in fact pleasant in the physical sense. Haters teeth were hard and cold and his breath smelled of things Peepers couldn’t even recognize. But the closeness, the warmth of his breath, the fact that _this was happening_ … filled Peepers with feelings he never even dreamed of experiencing. He rubbed his eye closer, yearning for more, going side to side over his teeth harder and more desperate. A silent whine that escaped him made him stop, realizing what he’s doing and just how _much_ he’s doing it. It scared him a little, not just because he could’ve woken his leader up like this, but also because he never felt like this. So satisfied yet so aching for more. Should he stop while he’s ahead? Should he _not_ feel like this? Was this wrong? Was _he_ wrong?

Peepers stared at Haters face once again, his eyelids heated up from the friction and tension. He felt the terrible self hatred rise up in him, but before it could overcome him, he frowned in resolute. The awful thoughts were forcefully pushed aside as Peepers swooped a bit higher to reach all of Haters face. He was not going to be stopped now, especially not by himself.

He pressed his eye back to him once more, hugging Haters head as much as his tiny arms allowed him to. For a moment he just held his superiors face like this, their faces squished together softly. Then he started rubbing against him once again, slowly, softly, much more by his senses than before. He held off the more intense feelings, trying to keep calm. Even if his eye was bloodshot and his breathing ragged, he had enough willpower to take it easy this time. He went slowly in circles, enjoying the friction, the pressure, the closeness… It was after a few minutes, when he realized he was subconsciously hugging Haters jaw with his legs, that he stopped. He pulled away from Haters face, swiping the mixture of sweat and tears from his eye. But Peepers wasn’t sad. He was overwhelmed with happiness to the point of looking apathetic. He smiled with his eye, petting Haters cheekbone, leaning in for one more little kiss.

Huh, did Hater just kiss him back or was it just his imagination? It was hard to tell on his skinless face. Peepers decided he did not want to know the real answer and instead started carefully peeling Haters sleeping grasp off of himself. It didn’t take him long to get free, letting Haters arm hanging from the bed, sitting up on the headboard. He looked down to Hater for a moment, watching his peaceful sleeping face in the darkness, feeling the warmth still inside his entire tiny being. He rubbed his eye again, still heated and sensitive from the smooching, trying to get his senses sharp again. Then he carefully jumped off, his light body making next to no sound on the soft carpet, grabbing his boots, helmet and gloves he left on the bedside table earlier. Holding all his things he made his way to the door, standing on his tippy toes to reach the doorknob. One final time he turned around, looking to Hater who slept like a baby. He’d never know what happened. He’d never know that Peepers loved him…

 _But that is okay,_ Peepers smiled to himself, _as long as I can be with you._

When he exited the door he threw all his things on the floor, putting his gloves and shoes on and getting into his oversized helmet. It was then that he noticed the round shadow just by where he was standing, looking up and turning around to see a watchdog guard standing in the hall just few meters away. The guard stared at him in slight surprise and concern, seeing as he just got done dressing up after exiting Haters room. But it was his bloodshot eye and blushing eyelid that made him extra curious.

Peepers panicked, getting angry out of frustration over the awkward situation.

“AREN’T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE GUARDING THE TRASH COMPACTOR?!” he yelled, clenching his fists angrily. The watchdog almost let go of his spear in startlement.

“Uh, um, no? I’m supposed to be here, sir, my guarding schedule is-”

“DON’T SCHOOL ME, PRIVATE! TRASH COMPACTOR, **NOW**!” Peepers pointed away furiously, his heart beating like crazy. The watchdog almost fell over trying to get away as fast as he could.

“Y-yes sir - of course sir!” he stuttered before disappearing behind a corner. Peepers stood there, breathing heavily. Then he sighed, covering his eye up.

“Oh grob, that was not suspicious at all…” he muttered to himself. He would definitely hear many _many_ dumb rumors about this circling the Skullship… but, even if so, Peepers felt content. He smiled to himself, walking back to his room. Nothing could ever take the memory of this evening from him, no matter what. He had gotten what he yearned for. And he was happy.


End file.
